


Not So Fun When It Actually Happens

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alpha!Clint, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mpreg, Omega!Phil, POV Alternating, surprise heat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:25:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 16,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shoddy planning (not Phil's, of course) and a gallant rescue have Phil (omega and proud of it, thank you) holed up in a safehouse trying to tough out his heat alone. It's not much easier for Clint either, not when he's pretty sure he caused Phil to go into heat in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someone pointed out on tumblr that there's no Omega!Phil fics out there and I wanted to see where that might go. 
> 
> Alternating viewpoint each chapter, so though it's quite a lot of chapters, they aren't crazy-long.
> 
> This is Omegaverse so there's the consent issues inherent in that world but all parties are pretty adamant about hashing everything out before they do anything anyway.
> 
> Also I (think I) came up with this idea that sometimes, omegas can go into spontaneous heat when an alpha rescues them gallantly - the stuff of romcoms and epic romances that people barely believe happens anymore.
> 
> First 10 or so chapers beta read by [Dunicha](http://dunicha.tumblr.com) but then messed around a bit by me afterwards.

It was a hatchet job of a mission. Shitty intel and shitty contacts and shitty planning, with Phil and Clint drafted in at the last minute in an attempt to plaster over the creaking gaps in just about everything. They managed to turn it around for the most part, and Phil felt some amount of pride at a mission mostly done right, but then - thanks to all that shitty intel - another member of the tiny AIM cell they thought they'd just taken out popped out of nowhere and had Phil's gun out of his holster, his hands behind his back and a knife at Phil's throat. 

 

He'd already sent Clint out and stayed back to douse the place in petrol ready for a burning arrow. The man dropped the gun and kicked it away.

 

"Shit." 

"Sir?" Clint's voice cracked on the (shitty) comms. Phil could hardly explain what was going on - the man breathing in his other ear would slice his throat before he could say much. But 'shit' was pretty much an unofficial codeword for 'get back here and help me out', so he hoped Clint would catch his meanin. The man walked Phil into another room through a hidden door they hadn't known was there. Two more goons stood at the back of the room looking threatening. The edge of a chair pressed into the back of Phil's knees and he sat - better to go along with things til that knife was no longer at his throat. 

 

"Who sent you?" the man rasped, still behind Phil and still with the knife. It pressed into Phil's skin as he swallowed. 

He was about to try and fudge his way out of it by angrily claiming to be from higher up in AIM, here to see if this particular puny tendril of the organisation was up to scratch, which clearly it was not, but then Clint appeared at the door with his bow already drawn, his expression cold and fierce. There was blood spattered on his face and down one arm; he'd had to fight his way back in. 

 

One man went down with a gurgle and a thud, the next shot was so quick the second man had no chance to react before an arrow thunked through his eye.

 

Phil felt a shiver and a twist in his gut and he gritted his teeth. He was at least two weeks out anyway. It was probably just stress. This was hardly the time to be thinking about getting rescued as anything other than what it was: work. His job. His stupid goddamn job.

 

Clint looked over Phil, silently asking if he was hurt and if there were any more people they had to worry about. Phil shook his head minutely. He was embarrassed at having been accosted so easily. 

"Come any closer and I'll slice his throat," the man promised. Not for the first time, Phil cursed the lack of intel that would have given him his name. 

 

"Look, I don't want any trouble," Clint said in a slightly bored voice despite just having killed two men and who knows how many others on the way back in. "I've had a terrible day as it is. This guy you got here's been riding my ass all day long. I just wanna go home, drink a beer and go to bed. The sooner you let him go the sooner we can all get on with our lives."

 

The knife didn't move but Phil could sense the man was thrown a little at Clint's attitude.

"I'm not letting him go. He comes with me. Hostage." 

" _Hostage_?" Clint was amused. "Who do you think we are?"

"NATO?" the man said after a pause.

 

"Nah. We're sort of an outside organisation. Black ops, undercover shit. _Assassinations_." Clint let that word linger in the air for a moment before continuing. "It's kind of annoying because you get sent to shit heaps like this and have to talk to asshats like you, but the beauty of it is: I get to shoot things with _arrows_." Clint tipped his head and raised his eyebrows at the man before aiming above him without looking and loosing his arrow. 

 

The man looked up to where it landed with a thunk in the ceiling, but then screamed when another one hit him in the shoulder. He twisted away, dropping the knife into Phil's lap, who was up instantly, turning him over and pulling his arms behind him to another scream. Phil knelt over him, pinning him down with his weight as he held his wrists together. Blood gushed out of his shoulder - the arrow hit where it was meant to - and already the man's struggles were getting weaker. Clint walked over and stood on the chair Phil had been sitting on to pull the arrow out of the ceiling before hopping down. 

 

"You alright sir?"

"I'm fine," Phil replied. He was shaken and embarrassed, and Clint's heroic rescue only embarrassed him more, not to mention the spreading ache of cramps that he told himself were just hunger pangs. He couldn't let it get too far before he could find a door with a lock on it. He sighed inwardly. "Thank you." 

"Are there any more?" 

Phil shook his head. "Not as far as I know, but frankly I don't trust any of our intel right now." 

 

He felt for the man's pulse while Clint yanked the arrows out of the other men slumped on the ground. Phil caught himself watching Clint's ass as he moved and shook his head to clear it. This was so not the time.

 

Once Phil was sure the man was dead he pulled out Clint's arrow and stood, brushing dust off of his suit and handing the arrow over. 

 

"Shall we?" 

"Hell yes." Clint took lead, bow drawn, and Phil found his gun on the way out. He hung back further than he'd like to, could tell he was already starting to scent the air.

 

"Sure you're alright, sir?" Clint asked once they were standing on the dock watching the place burn. Phil was sweating and the cramps were starting to be a constant presence, though still light enough that they didn’t hurt. "Let's get back," was all he'd say. 

 

-

 

Phil was an omega. He didn't hide it, most everyone knew the untouchable Agent Coulson was an omega - fighting against the odds to become Fury's right-hand man. It wasn't even much of an issue most of the time; the odd junior alpha might try something but they'd be swiftly put in their place by Phil himself, and anyone who dared try to stand up for him would be too. 

 

He was proud of how far he'd risen in the ranks of SHIELD. He had worked hard to be as strong and as fast as any alpha or beta, he could manage anyone he was put in charge of and privately believed that his omega nature was actually a boon in some ways: he was more intuitive than a lot of the bullheaded alphas he'd met in the army when he'd still pretended to be a beta.

 

At SHIELD he didn't have to hide. Omegas were even rarer in SHIELD than they were elsewhere, but they were still given ten days off every six months for their heats. Not having to take suppressants anymore was wonderful, and even if his heats were lonely and painful he didn't mind, safe in the knowledge that his job would still be there when they were over. 

 

But there was a reason omega agents weren't given away missions the month before they were scheduled to go into heat, and this was it. It was mostly a superstition, the stuff of fairytales and romcoms, but the cliche was: if an omega was saved heroically from some sort of peril by a suitable mate, they'd go into early heat. Phil had only heard of it happening for real a few times, more of a romantic myth than reality. Having it actually happen was mortifyingly embarrassing. 

 

By the time they were back at the safehouse, the cramps were rolling through him like hot waves. Clint knew well enough to stay away. He swallowed and stood out of arms reach before saying anything. "I'm going into heat, Clint," Phil said redundantly. 

 

Clint nodded and locked the door behind them. "Was it... because of me?" 

Phil shuddered. "Yes. I'm sorry. This is very embarrassing."

He couldn't see Clint's face the way he was turned away, but he heard the tiny laugh, just a breath through his nose. "That's never... happened to me before. Do you want me to do anything?" Phil wanted so much to say yes, please. But no. Clint trying to be a caring no-strings alpha was the last thing he needed. 

"No. I'll be fine on my own. Just stay out here, alright?" He snapped.

Clint swallowed and nodded again. "Sure, boss." 

"Clint?" Phil said as he leaned on the doorframe to the only bedroom in the safehouse. "I'm really sorry about this." 

Clint frowned, a small wrinkle in his forehead that quickly dissipated. He smiled instead. "S'fine. I don't mind." 

Phil closed the door before he could say anything else. If Clint offered to help him out again, he wasn't sure he'd be able to say no.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint's POV.

Clint pinched his nose and shook his head again. Phil had just gone into _heat_ \- over _him_. It hadn't even been all that much of an impressive rescue to be honest. His heart had been pounding as he'd taken down three baby-hydras on the way back into the building to find Phil with that asshole holding a knife to his throat. He'd covered up his panic with some bullshit snark he couldn't even remember now, but it had worked out and he'd saved him, which was really all that mattered. 

 

The smell of _Phil_ permeated the air. It was much the same as his normal scent, but stronger, with the sweet tang of pheromones and a deeper, earthier musk too, which would only get more intense as the days went on. They couldn't fly like this, and for all Phil's assurances, Clint couldn't leave him here defenceless. Even if Phil didn't want him, he couldn't just go. 

 

A small moan came from the bedroom and Clint scrubbed a hand over his face. This was a nightmare. 

 

-

 

"You hungry?" Clint asked through the door. Phil moaned before choking out a 'no'. Clint couldn't help but close his eyes and breathe in the smell, bracing his arms against the doorframe and resting his head on the door itself. "You need anything else?"

Phil didn't respond that time and after a minute of breathing that air - Clint's air, the smell _he'd_ made Phil have - he tore himself away to go find something to eat. 

 

-

 

"I'm gonna leave you some food outside the door, ok? I'll go outside if you want me to." 

After a moment of no response, Clint left the tray and took a walk to the convenience store near the safehouse for supplies. It wasn't til he got back that he fully processed what he'd bought. He put the flowers in a vase and left them in the kitchen. The tray was gone and in it's place, a small note that said 'thank you' in slightly shaky lettering. Clint put it in his pocket.

 

The smell in the apartment was stronger now, and Clint was sweating from it. It was stupid: Phil wasn't _his_ omega any more than he was anyone's alpha. The early heat thing was just bad planning. But a baser part of him said _no, that's your heat._

 

Phil moaned loudly and Clint hovered near the door. "Phil? Phil, do you need anything?" 

"No! Please. Go away." He sounded completely wrecked and Clint felt a painful urge to help his omega, to help him through his heat and keep him safe. He shouldn't be thinking like that though. _Phil doesn't want you, Clint,_ he kept reminding himself. But it was getting harder and harder to focus on that instead of the magnetic pull he felt towards the man suffering at his hand. 

 

He slid to the floor beside the door and leaned his head against it. "I'm sorry I'm not Captain America," he said quietly. He didn't expect a reply, but then he heard, "What?" 

"If I was a better alpha, I could... it doesn't matter." 

"What-" Phil was cut off by a painful sounding groan. "What does that mean?"

"I just... if you wanted me to, I'd... I'd help you out. But you don't want me to and that's fine. That's fine."

"-better alpha?" 

Clint closed his eyes and breathed. "C'mon, sir." He didn't want to say it, he'd been told enough times in his life he was a runt, a bad alpha, that no one would want his knot. He didn't want to have to say those things out loud. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Phil held in a moan and closed his eyes. He could sense Clint outside the door, lured by the pheromones his body was spilling, the thin pine door the only thing keeping them apart. 

 

Phil had seen Clint with other omegas; the few that joined every year having to fend off testosterone fuelled alphas and Clint swooping in instead. He didn't ask what went on in their quarters, he didn't want to know. Clint was just a bit of a showboating alpha, and that was fine. There was nothing wrong with that. He'd seen Clint's eyes dilate and his nostrils flare when other omegas walked by on the tail end of a heat. Clint had his pick of anyone he wanted, he certainly didn't want cold, distant Coulson. 

 

People joked that Phil had the biggest knot of all, which most of the time, he kind of liked. But when it came to Clint... He'd be lying if he said he hadn't sometimes thought about Clint when he spent his heats alone.

 

Phil glanced at the half-eaten pizza going cold on it's tray. It was just Clint being practical. It didn't mean anything that his alpha had brought him food. And he wasn't _his_ alpha. He wasn't anyone's alpha, least of all Phil's. He might offer to help but the last thing Phil wanted was Clint to give him a pity knot just to be giving it to some other omega a few days later. Except he really did want that. It ached how much he wanted that. It burned knowing he could just say the word and Clint would take care of him for a night or two. But then what? He'd be back to fucking every omega who came his way and Phil would be just another notch on his bedpost. 

 

Another roll of pain crawled its way through Phil. He could try to take care of it, find something to use to fill the hole in him, but it wouldn't make anything much better and would only make it harder for Clint to keep away with all the extra pheromones it would release. Phil shook his head and punched the mattress with balled up fists. God damn the idiots who planned this mission.

 

"Phil?" Clint said from the other side of the door again. Phil wished he'd leave and fervently hoped he wouldn't. What did he mean by that Captain America comment anyway? He wanted to ask but it was actually painful waiting on Clint's responses. He was clearly a good alpha - all those omegas surely proved that well enough. And he was strong, confident, beautiful of course...

" _Please_."

"What?" Phil replied. 

"I'm sorry if it was because of me. I know you don't want me like that. But... can I please help?"

Phil hit the mattress in despair again. "I don't want a pity-knot, Clint."

Clint was silent and Phil winced at himself. "I don't want that either."

"What do you want then?"

"I just... want to look after you." Clint's voice sounded so plaintive and hurt, as though he needed Phil as much as Phil so desperately needed him, that he couldn't stop the keening sound in the back of his throat. He was about done arguing. "Will you keep your pants on?"

" _Yes_ , Phil. Jesus."


	4. Chapter 4

 

The door cracked open and Clint stood there waiting for Phil to nod him in. He was sprawled on the bed in thin pyjamas that were soaked through. Phil looked at him with hooded eyes and Clint waited for him to say something, but he didn't.

 

He'd looked after a fair few omegas in heat before now. He didn't often sleep with juniors, he just scared off any of the too-determined alphas that wouldn't leave them alone. It was nice to look after them, feel needed and wanted like that. When it was all over he'd go back to his own quarters and try to stave off the empty feeling that it had soothed for a few short days. It was like something omegas said about how they felt when they were in heat: an emptiness that was more than physical. 

 

But he'd help Phil out if he'd let him, even though once it was over he knew Phil would be more distant than ever. He could just hold him and make him safe. If Phil asked for it he'd give him his knot, but he didn't want to. It hurt more afterwards when he did that. "Move over," Clint said, and Phil watched him as he slid over, leaving a space for Clint to sit down next to him. "C'mere," Clint said, pulling a pillow into his lap and patting it. Phil hesitantly laid his head there and then Clint just ran his fingers through his hair. It was a tiny gesture really, but Phil shivered in pleasure. "Shh," Clint said quietly. "I've got you." 

 

They stayed like that for a while, Phil's breath evening out and Clint getting used to the even stronger scent in the room. The pillow thankfully hid his erection, which hadn't abated since coming in and had only gotten worse since actually getting his hands on Phil, all pliant and warm. Phil tensed and turned his head into the pillow to muffle a moan that pulled on something inside Clint that was taut as a bowstring. "Tell me where," Clint said. Phil took a deep breath and ground a hand against his belly.

 

Clint gently nudged him til he was laying on the bed and then rolled him onto his side. He put the pillow between them before settling behind Phil and then gingerly wrapped an arm around him, rubbing a hand slowly down to his belly. Phil sighed as Clint began gently massaging him there, just small brushes of his fingertips and soft, gentle kneading. He ignored Phil's erection even though he knew it was there, his hand so close it would barely be any effort at all to just slide a hand in and relieve some pressure. 

 

He let himself breathe in Phil's scent deeply now that he couldn't so easily see him do it. _Mine_ , his lizard brain unhelpfully said. "You smell so good," he said unbidden, immediately wishing he hadn't. He cringed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Phil tensed in his arms but he didn't say anything, soon relaxing under Clint's careful caresses.


	5. Chapter 5

Clint's hands on Phil felt like a salve on his burning skin. He could die here, he decided. It would be fine. It wasn't enough, but it was more than he ever really dreamed he'd have. The cramps had stilled just from having this perfect alpha so close. 

 

"Did you mean it?" 

"The smell thing? ...Yeah," Clint sounded embarrassed.

"I'm not..." Phil swallowed, his throat suddenly too dry. "I'm old, Clint." 

"So?"

"Nothing, it doesn't matter."

Clint stopped his petting. "Please tell me."

"I know what kind of omegas you like, and that's fine. But please don't pretend like you'd ever choose me in any other scenario. It's not fair." 

"What do you mean?"

"This is nice, really. Thank you." It was an understatement. He couldn't say just how nice, how completely wonderful it was. "But you don't have to lie to me."

"And what does that mean?" Clint sounded hurt.

"I'm just saying you don't have to pretend like this is more than it is."

Clint huffed behind him. "You're a real asshole, you know that, Phil?"

Phil tensed. In this state he felt more omega than ever. Having an alpha call him an asshole, and it being Clint at that, physically pained him. "What?" 

"If you don't want me, fine, I understand, but don't put that on me, don't play that card. Call it what it is. You need an alpha to get you through this that you can just toss aside right after? I've done it before and I can do it again, but don't tell me I wouldn't choose you." Clint's voice shook. "Like you'd ever give me the chance anyway."

 

Phil squeezed his eyes shut as his body unhelpfully responded to the forceful tone of Clint’s voice. "Are you saying you would? Choose me I mean." 

"The fuck kind of question is that?"

"You fuck every omega that comes in to SHIELD, Clint. You have your pick of all these nubile kids and you're telling me you'd pick me? _Me_ ," Phil reiterated. Because that was ridiculous. 

"You... are you for real? First of all, I don't fuck every- are you fucking kidding me?” Clint pulled his hands away and rolled onto his back. Phil didn’t turn to look at him. “I thought you were smart, Coulson." 

"So you don't fuck them? You just stroke their hair and tell them they smell good?" 

"Yes! And no, _actually_. I don't tell them they smell good unless they do, asshole."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do it if you don't fuck them?"

Clint huffed a rueful laugh again. "Right, cause everyone wants all of this."

"What are you talking about?" 

"Oh fuck you."

"What?" 

"Let's see. No pedigree, no money, I'm an asshole, high risk job so no guarantee I'll be sticking around long. I don't even have a high school diploma. No, you're right, I'm a real catch." 

Phil turned over so he could look at Clint with eyes that wouldn't focus right. "But you _are_." 

Clint looked so _sad_ that something in Phil wanted to reach out and pull him in. "That's just heat talk,” he said quietly.

Phil laughed and shook his head. "Isn't this conversation meant to be the other way round?" 

 

Clint licked his lips and took a breath before explaining.

"I... I take care of people if they need it. But I don't want to just be there for heats," Clint smiled ruefully. "See? Bad alpha."

Phil shook his head again. "No, you're- you’re not _bad_ , Clint." He was well aware of Clint's past, the low self worth he covered with swaggering confidence. It wasn't til now he realised maybe he'd bought into it more than he realised. "Would you really have stayed here my whole heat without knotting me?"

"If you wanted me to." 

"And then what?"

Clint shrugged and wouldn't look at Phil. "Gone home. Been bummed out." 

"How long have you.."

Clint took an unhappy breath. "A while."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Figured you wouldn't be interested."

Phil winced as another spike of aching pain shot through his abdomen. It felt like it underlined the heartache of Clint's words, and it was probably the heat addling his brain but Phil almost believed in bonding for a moment. Clint wasn’t looking at Phil as he reached a cool hand out to touch the damp tshirt Phil was wearing, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure. Phil whimpered. 

"I would." Phil watched Clint's eyes as they flicked up to meet his as he spoke. "Be interested. If you were, that is." 

"What about-" Clint gestured to _everything_ with the tiniest tip of his head. The mission, the safehouse, SHIELD regulations...

"Extenuating circumstances?" Phil replied with a nervously hopeful smile.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is really short! I'll post another one to make up for it ;)

Clint heaved a shuddering breath. Phil. Phil Coulson actually wanted him? It probably _was_ heat-talk, other omegas had said the same. But then, no other omega had gone into a spontaneous heat because of him. And who was he trying to fool anyway? Even if Phil never let him near him again after this, better to have flown so close to the sun that his wings burned than never to have flown at all. 

 

"Can I kiss you?" he asked suddenly, or else he wouldn’t ask at all.  Phil just nodded. His lips were hot and smooth, parting and coaxing Clint's tongue inside. Phil sucked on it and it was so unexpected Clint pulled back in surprise. Phil keened at the loss, and the sound made something inside him thrum with want: the desire to protect him, his omega, keep him from ever making those sounds again. 

 

He pushed Phil onto his back and straddled him, bending down to take another kiss that felt too good to be proper, like he would get caught and be made to give it back somehow. But Phil just let him have as much as he wanted, soft and sweet turning filthy and wanton and pleading, a kaleidoscope of sensations that was all Phil.

 

“So are we... going to?” Clint asked, suddenly bashful at the possibility of this happening and feeling his usual level head in situations like this falter. Phil nodded again and then made a sound of discomfort that had Clint kissing him again and brushing his hair back from his face. “Do you have stuff?”

Phil winced and shook his head. “I didn’t have time. Don’t you?” 

“No! Shit!” Clint panicked suddenly that this wasn’t going to happen after all. “I’ll go get some condoms.” 

Phil clung on and whined. “No, I’m not. I won’t. It’s fine.” 

Clint looked down at him and wanted so badly to just do it, take Phil bareback, skin to skin. But he wasn’t an asshole. That wasn’t the right way to do this. He leaned in to kiss Phil again and moan, hoping it would express just what this was doing to him. “I’ll be back. I promise you Phil. Five minutes.” 

He extricated himself from  Phil’s grasp and made for the door, his erection rather obscenely tenting his pants. He pressed a hand against it and Phil moaned from the bed in frustration. “I’m going to kill Gutierrez,” Phil groaned. 

“I’ll help you hide the body,” Clint promised back. 

 

-

 

The store was thankfully empty and the cashier raised her eyebrow at him when she noted the large box of condoms and the scent he was throwing off. He grinned the grin he’d been sporting since he left the safehouse and sprinted back to his waiting omega.


	7. Chapter 7

Phil writhed on the bed when he heard the door slam open and the locks click shut. He’d already taken his sodden clothes off and so he turned over onto his front.

 

It felt good to stretch out and curve his back. If they really were going to do this, Phil was going to be shameless about it, presenting himself and bowing his head in needy submission, letting his body do what it craved. Clint opened the door and moaned at the sight of him, the sound making Phil moan in return. He stalked his way to the bed and knelt behind him, running his hands along Phil’s sides and making a noise of approval from deep within his chest that made Phil arch his back that much more. He heard a zipper open and could feel his body responding to it, yearning for what he wanted, what he _needed_ so badly.

 

“Please,” Phil said, face pushed into the pillows so it was muffled. He wanted to beg and plead and _please_ his Alpha so he’d take pity and look after him but after so long of holding this back it felt wrong to give in and submit. 

“Say it again?” Clint said with a shuddering breath. 

Phil turned his head to one side to respond. “What?” 

“Say it again. Ask me.” 

Phil’s whole body quivered as he closed his eyes and whispered back, “Please. I need it. Clint-” 

Clint pushed forward and Phil’s world turned black and white, slowing down and blurring as Clint’s cock pushed into him, hot and thick and feeling even better the further he went til he was flush with Phil and bending over him, lips and hot breaths on his neck.

 

“So hot, Phil,” Clint murmured, his lips so close that Phil tried not to think about how he could just bite him right now, except that’s all he could think about. “So good.” 

Phil had no response, there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t betray just how much this was everything he wanted and how it was better than he’d ever let himself imagine it would be. 

“Phil,” Clint whined against his neck, a mix of emotions both sad and happy that Phil couldn’t decipher. But then he was done thinking about it because Clint was moving, sliding that thick flesh in and out of him just by tiny increments that Phil knew would shortly turn into punishing, powerful thrusts.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for how short the chapters are D: It's the changing POV, I didn't know how else to differentiate them.

Phil was hot and buttery inside, his inner walls vibrating around Clint’s cock so deliciously that, combined with how much he’d wanted this and the delay of getting the condoms (which hadn’t made his erection subside at _all_ ), he wouldn’t last long. The thought of the knot to come, where they’d be tied together for probably hours just turned him on even more. “Phil, I won’t last long, I’m sorry.”

“N-no, it’s ok, I want your knot. Wanna feel you.”

“ _Phil_. You sure?” 

Phil let out a guttural moan which had Clint holding onto him even tighter, the base of his dick already starting to swell. “Yes goddammit. I can feel you getting bigger already. Just do it. Knot me. Tie me Clint, do it!” He squeezed around him as if to urge him on andClint lost control, collapsing over Phil clumsily as he came, thrusting in as far as he could and then just staying there as he filled the condom, bucking a little, back and forth as the knot grew. Collecting himself, at least a tiny bit, Clint leaned up from where he was crushing Phil beneath him and mindlessly kissed everywhere he could reach; his neck, his shoulders, his hair. Phil whimpered beneath him and moved, causing friction on the swelling knot and draining the last remaining drops out of Clint. 

 

Scooping his arms under Phil, Clint leveraged them onto their sides so he was laying behind him. Phil gasped as he did it and Clint apologised, peppering more little kisses he couldn’t help himself from pressing into Phil’s skin. “Sorry,” Clint said, not entirely sure what he was apologising for but meaning it anyway. He drifted a hand down Phil’s stomach to wrap it around his cock and just that one touch had Phil tightening around him again and keening. “Shh, I got you, I got you,” Clint murmured as he started to pump Phil’s dick, Phil’s hand coming up to guide Clint’s hand til he was spilling and tightening even more, tying them completely. 


	9. Chapter 9

Phil threaded his fingers through Clint’s in a slippery mess and felt like his bones were melting. He was here, safe in his alpha’s arms with his cock buried deep inside him. There were things to think about and things they both needed to say but for now, this was everything.

 

Clint’s chest, still fully clothed - he’d not even taken his pants all the way off before they got into it - rose and fell in time with Phil’s breaths and he pressed back into it to feel him there, solid and present. “I’m not going anywhere,” Clint said softly as if he’d read Phil’s mind.

“Promise?” Phil asked, and that was the sort of thing he’d hoped to avoid saying, but he was here now and it was happening. He was too blissed out to react to having said those words but Clint’s breath hitched and he squeezed him a little tighter. “I promise.” 

 

“I don’t...” Phil stopped. He didn’t know what to do next, where they’d go from here. Clint said he didn’t want this to be a one time thing, and perhaps that was just something said in the heat of the moment, but trying not to say anything felt like a betrayal. He had to be honest. “I don’t want you to go.” 

 

Clint laughed behind him, a glittering sound that made Phil feel like he was crackling with light. “I couldn’t go anywhere if I wanted to.” 

“No, but. I mean after.” Phil’s voice wavered with just how much he meant it, how much he desperately wanted more than this. It was almost painful how good it felt, how much he never wanted it to end and knowing it would.

“I won’t,” Clint promised. “If you really want me.”

“I do. I do so much Clint. I never thought you’d... I thought. I-” he couldn’t continue. It was the heat, and being so close, and being so there in that moment with Clint right beside him, he felt like he was on the verge of crying. Clint squeezed him, pulling him impossibly closer. “Stop it, it’s ok. I’m here. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

“Forever,” Phil demanded, and he knew how needy and desperate and pathetic he sounded but he couldn’t help himself. Clint kissed the back of his head and replied, “forever.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Clint felt Phil’s fingers digging into his arms and had to wonder how this had happened. He’d never felt so needed, so wanted in his whole life. Phil seemed to be lost to it, dazed with what Clint was guessing what his first knot in a long time. So Clint made himself hold back a little, stop his heart from melting into Phil’s when he wasn’t sure, no matter how convincing it was, if it was anything more than heat talk. But oh how he wanted it to be more than that.

 

Phil was so warm and giving and tight at the same time, pulling him in and holding him right there. He was so brilliant and perfect, so strong and independent and so not like any omega Clint had ever known before, and his brain was telling him that maybe that was what made him pick Clint, that the things about each other that had them doubting themselves made them perfect for each other. And well, Phil _had_ gone into heat, so perhaps there was something to their breathless promises of forever. Either way, someone had gone into heat for Clint Barton. He never thought he’d see the day. Even if this all turned to dust in his hands like it had so many times before, he’d always have that.

 

Taking a deep breath, Clint shifted them so he could shuck off his shoes and the rest of his pants, whispering apologies as he nudged Phil. Skin on skin felt so good: warm and soft and soothing. His shirt went next, and he went to throw it off the bed but Phil put a hand out to stop him, taking it from him instead and bringing it to his face. “God, Phil,” Clint said, propped up and watching Phil close his eyes as he smelled the shirt. “You’re killing me.”


	11. Chapter 11

A while later, Clint’s knot had shrunk enough that he could pull out, the both of them whimpering as he did so. Phil mourned the loss and feared Clint would leave, but he merely stretched and popped his back before fitting himself back around Phil again. Phil shifted in his arms so they were facing each other, the heat now a dull roar instead of the tsunami of frantic, painful need that it had been before. 

 

“Sorry I was... a little over the top,” he said. Clint smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.” He moved as if to speak again but then stopped, smiling faintly instead. “What is it?” Phil asked, still feeling the warmth of connection through Clint’s hand on his waist. 

 

Clint looked at Phil’s lips before licking his own and speaking. “Did I... Did it... Was it because of me?” 

“The heat?”

Clint nodded and gingerly met Phil’s eyes. 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m pretty regular. I wasn’t due for another couple weeks.” 

Clint couldn’t help the smile worming it’s way onto his face and Phil huffed out a little laugh. “I guess you’re pretty proud of yourself.” 

Clint shrugged but nodded anyway and Phil laughed before pressing his face into the pillow. “Sorry,” he said, wincing as he turned his face back. “I just. Yeah. I guess you do it for me.” He shrugged apologetically, as though he was sorry for being into Clint that way and Clint had to shake his head in amazement. “No. Don’t be sorry. God Phil. I mean... you’re so. You’re so _you_ , you know? And you.... I never thought you’d want me. I figured you’d want like, Captain America, some real alpha who can properly look after you.” 

Phil’s eyebrows raised as Clint spoke, til his face warped into a grin. “No way. It was always you.” 

 

Clint looked a little sad again, dragging the tips of his fingers down over Phil’s hip. “I really wanna believe you.”

“So believe.” 

“It’s that simple, huh?”

Phil shrugged and then the pain arced through him again. Clint’s cock stirred against his thigh and he closed his eyes and laughed. “Can we... do it this way,” Clint asked, “so I can see you.” 

Prickles of heat jittered up Phil’s spine as he nodded yes.


	12. Chapter 12

 

Clint moved Phil onto his back and propped himself over him, daring to dart in for a kiss before doing anything else. He was starting to believe in it, to think it was real, and since they’d already done it once, he could take his time with this, savour it properly. 

 

Phil keened when Clint stepped off the bed on shaky legs to find the packet of condoms, ripping the packet and moving to put one on himself before Phil caught his hand. “Let me, I’ve... I’ve always wanted to.” 

 

Clint knelt on the bed and let Phil roll the condom onto him, the same determined coolness even as heat roiled through him. “You’ve thought about my knot?” 

Phil leaned forwards to kiss the end of Clint’s cock, looking at it longingly before settling back in the pillows. “I think about it a lot,” he confessed. “Maybe... another time I can suck it?” 

 

Clint gasped and looked at Phil, scandalised. Phil shrugged a little, a coy grin on his face. “There’s no way,” Clint said as he settled between Phil’s legs. “Agent Coulson doesn’t do that.” He pushed Phil’s knees up and set himself in position, running a hand up Phil’s torso as he pressed forward and into Phil’s waiting heat. 

 

Phil scrabbled for Clint, pulling him in as he began to rut. “I do,” he whispered into Clint’s ear. “I would for you.” 

No one had ever done that, licked Clint’s knot before. They either wanted him for his knot inside them or just for the comfort he could give just by his alpha presence, where he wouldn’t come at all. It was a kink he certainly didn’t expect Phil to share. But then again, he hadn’t expected any of this. Not the way Phil held onto him like he was trying to pull Clint into his body, or the way he said Clint’s name. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my ponderances on the Omegaverse I thought blowjobs might take on a different kinkiness factor when a knot isn't normally present unless the alpha comes inside a mate.   
> The concept of Omegaverse porn (and kinks in the Omegaverse!) is fascinating to me!
> 
> I don't quite know where to end this. I figure they're going to have sex for a few days and then tentatively start a relationship... Not sure how far to go with it? I think it would be quite newsworthy at SHIELD to find out that Coulson and Clint Barton of all people had gotten together.


	13. Chapter 13

Clint fucked Phil, kissing his neck and holding him there, safe, protected, filled. “So good,” he whispered into Phil’s ear. “So good for me Phil.” 

Phil shivered in his arms and let himself stop worrying so much, giving himself over to the push and pull of Clint inside him. It was as good as a cool drink on a hot day and a warm blanket on a cold one, the antithesis to everything Phil was, that he needed to make him whole. It completed him.

 

They lasted longer this time, Clint going slower but no less hard, slamming into Phil with a force and precision that had him pinned there, completely open and vulnerable. For once Phil was glad of it, pleased to bend to the will of an alpha, let himself be taken. 

 

Clint’s thrusts grew shallower and erratic, til he was stilling, pushing in and holding himself there as he once again filled the condom and stretched Phil with his knot, moaning throatily into the hot skin of his neck. Phil hadn’t come this time, but was close, all he needed was to get a hand between them and -

Clint leaned up and batted Phil’s hand away before jerking it himself, moving his body to shift his knot inside Phil for the friction til Phil gave himself over to his ministrations and arched beneath him, coming with a mindless cry. When he opened his eyes again, Clint was licking his hand, watching Phil with dark eyes. 

 

Phil tipped his head back and laughed. “Oh Clint. You’re amazing.”

The smile he gave back had Phil hoping that he finally believed it. 

 

They spent the next half-hour tied, Clint rolling them til Phil was on top. It felt so warm and safe atop Clint’s chest, broad hands idly stroking his back and brushing through his hair. After fifteen minutes, Phil pushed himself up and experimentally shifted a little. “Do you mind?” He asked, fisting his hard-again cock in apology. Clint shook his head and looked a little dazed as Phil sat there, still tied to Clint as he jerked off, squeezing around his knot and shooting over his chest before slumping back down, sated again, at least for the time being. 

 

Clint held onto him tightly, and Phil must have dozed off, coming to when Clint gently rolled him stickily off of himself and slipped free. “A few more times, you think?” He asked, casting around for something to wipe them down before giving up and laying there instead, dishevelled and beautiful. “Yeah. At least,” was all Phil could return. 

“Wanna take a shower?”

Phil did... but laying there was also pretty amazing. The bed jiggled as Clint got up, perfect in all his naked glory. He caught Phil looking and grinned. “C’mon, lets go shower. What kind of alpha would I be if I let you lay around in filth all day?” 

“A pretty good one?” Phil ventured, but Clint grabbed his wrist and pulled him up, supporting him on legs that really didn’t want to cooperate. Clint picked him up and carried him to the bathroom, the cooler air in the rest of the safehouse surprising and refreshing. Glimpsing back into the bedroom it did look pretty grim. 

 

Clint placed Phil in the bath and he rolled his eyes. “I can look after myself, Clint,” he promised, but Clint just bit his lip and smiled. “I know. But I’d like to?” 

Phil slowly closed his eyes and smiled back. “Alright.”


	14. Chapter 14

After another 48 hours of sex and a further 12 to sleep, tangled together and dead to the world, they were cleared to leave. Phil quietly got on with neglected paperwork on the plane, neatly filling out forms and answering emails like the mild-mannered businessman Clint was used to him being. 

 

He was worried that now that the urgent need of the heat was no more and that Phil might quietly tell him that he was grateful and all but this was a one-time thing, but the promises and pleas had lasted long into the heat and even after it had finished. Before they left the safehouse Phil had pulled Clint close and kissed him deeply. “We’ll figure it out when we’re home,” he’d said, eyes flitting between Clint’s as he said it. Clint had nodded and silently prayed that meant what he hoped it meant.

 

Phil caught him staring and offered a warm smile. Clint wanted to reach out and touch him, a simple hand on Phil’s knee or a kiss on his cheek, but he’d never really done this before, not properly, not with someone who wasn’t craving his touch in the heat of the moment. He didn’t know how to offer himself to someone who wasn’t desperately after his knot. Clint looked at his own laptop and the unread emails therein and sighed to himself. A chime sounded for a new email and he opened it up automatically. He glanced over to see Phil studiously looking at his own screen. The email was from Phil. 

 

_Subject: Moving forward_

 

_Would you like to go to dinner this Friday?_

 

He glanced over and let out a small bubble of laughter at Phil’s pokerface before replying.

 

_Re: Moving forward_

 

_Yes_

_xx_


	15. Chapter 15

Phil was relieved when they touched down on the helicarrier after untold baggage and customs delays - that was the last time they flew commercial, he was sure about that - and there wasn’t a soul on the strip. The news of their delay and the reason behind it was sure to have spread through the crew like wildfire, if not all the details then rumours that would be just as irritating and harder to shake off, so not having to answer questions or listen to juniors tittering behind his back for a few more hours was blessed relief. 

 

He wanted... so many things. If Phil had his way, Clint would come back to his quarters right now and that would be that, or he’d go to Clint’s. But it wasn’t that simple. It wouldn’t be fair to Clint to even ask for that anyway. Still, it tore at something in Phil’s chest when they parted ways on the residential deck to go back to their respective quarters. “I guess I’ll see you on Friday,” Clint said with a quirk of his lips that made Phil want to kiss them again. But he had nodded, mindful of the prying eyes and ears that were the very essence of SHIELD. “Agent,” is all he’d said in parting, nodding and hoping that conveyed some modicum of his feelings. 

 

He’d just finished neatly folding the shirt he’d half-stolen from Clint into his bedside drawer when there was a knock at the door. It was Fury. Phil braced himself for whatever dressing down he was about to get and let him in. Nick sat on the little couch - a boon only the most senior officers got on the helicarrier - and stretched his arms across the back of it. “We need to talk.”

“Whisky talk or vodka talk?” Phil asked, moving to the little kitchenette to pull down two glasses from the shelf. 

“You tell me.”

Well then. That was encouraging. “Whisky... I think.” It was their traditional drink to celebrate a mission success. To be savoured and appreciated. To Natasha’s disgust the vodka was the commiseration drink, for missions gone bad and best forgotten.

 

Fury cocked an eyebrow and nodded. Phil busied himself with ice and pouring, knowing Nick was watching him do it all. “So you and Barton, huh?”

Phil handed him his drink and sat across from him on the narrow bed, his elbows resting on his knees. He raised his eyebrows in admission and took a sip. Fury smiled, amused. “Did you plan it?” Phil asked, because the question had plagued his mind. Nick laughed. “If I’d known it’d work I would have planned it years ago. No, I didn’t plan this.”

Phil eyed him suspiciously and Nick just grinned some more. “Sounds like it worked out though.”

“You could say that.” The ice swirled in his glass and Phil caught himself smiling at it. Nick caught it too. “You want some time off? Take a vacation with your new mate? You’ve more than earned it.”

Phil took a breath and shook his head. “No, not... I don’t want to rush things. We’ve barely talked about anything. Except for...”

Nick held up a hand. “Spare me the details, please.” Phil laughed and then stopped himself when Nick grinned some more. “You really are gone aren’t you?”

Phil worked his jaw a little before nodding reluctantly. “I think so.” 

Nick huffed a laugh. “You’ve been gone for a long time.”

“I haven’t-”

Nick rolled his eye and looked at him pointedly. Well, perhaps he just hadn’t admitted it to himself before. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We haven’t even been on a date. You can’t base a relationship on one heat.”

The couch creaked as Nick tipped his head to finish the drink and lean forward to place the glass on the floor in front of him, moving to mirror Phil’s posture. “If you think yourself out of this I _will_ arrange for it to happen again. Don’t make me play match maker.” 

Phil laughed and finished his own drink. “Yes, sir.”


	16. Chapter 16

Clint was pacing around his room when Natasha knocked on the door, a sharp rap that could only be her. 

“So you fucked Phil,” she said as she came in. Clint watched her walk past him and plonk down on his bed gracelessly. She was well beyond caring what Clint thought of her to bother being dainty. “Nice to see you too.”

“Was it good?” 

Clint closed the door and tried not to smile so hard. “Nat, it was... amazing.” 

She grinned and shook her head. “Gross.”

She was a beta, she’d never understand. She didn’t get why Clint was so bothered about the stuff outside of sex, the relationship, the _caring_. It all seemed like too much work for no payout. 

“It was the best I’ve ever had.”

She raised her eyebrows even higher and grinned even more. “Really?”

Clint nodded helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. I wanna go over there and... just be with him. Look after him, you know?” Nat didn’t know, but she nodded sympathetically. “Why don’t you?” 

“It’s not that easy.” 

“Sure it is.”

“Nat! It’s not, ok?”

 

She rolled her eyes and flopped back on the bed. “I just..” Clint continued, sitting next to her and pushing her feet away when she started to walk them up his side. “If someone’s in a heat it’s different. It was amazing but... I want more than that. And I mean, he’s _Coulson_. He should be dating Steve Rogers or... or Fury or someone.”

Natasha spluttered at the admittedly strange mental image of Phil and Fury going at it. “Phil’s never gone into a heat from either of those though.”

That was true. And Clint couldn’t stop himself from smiling at that little reminder: Phil went into heat over him. Phil Coulson, the biggest, baddest omega in SHIELD, had gone into heat over Mr Bad Decision himself. If that wasn’t the biggest stroke to his ego, Clint didn’t know what was. 

“We’re going to dinner on Friday.” 

“So, see?”

“He might be going to tell me it’s over. That it was never anything to begin with.”

Natasha gently pressed the tip of her boot against Clint’s cheek. “You’re an idiot,” she said fondly. 

Clint reached forwards and pinched the soft flesh under her knee to make her yelp and jump away before fending off a barrage of assassin tickles, the most deadly kind. 

 

"So," she said once they were both breathless and bruised. "You got a whole date planned out yet?" 

Clint grimaced at her. "No? Will you help me?" He tried to give her puppy dog eyes and then flinched away when she went for his ribs again.

She sighed dramatically. "Fine. But you owe me."

"I always owe you."

Natasha looked for a moment like she had a retort to that but then just smiled instead. 

"What?" 

"You're totally in love." 

Clint rolled his eyes but then couldn't quite meet Natasha's, and she laughed before rolling and jumping off the bed and holding out a hand. "C'mon, up. We have work to do." 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> couple of longer than usual chapters here. Should be another three or four chapters after this I think? Thanks for bearing with me :)

 

Clint comes by a week later to pick Phil up for their date. He’s wearing a _suit_. Phil steps back in surprise when he opens the door, and Clint looks down at himself in dismay. “Do you hate it?” 

“No! God, no. Uh. Wow.”

The way Clint’s mouth quirks up has Phil grinning, and he takes Clint’s arm when he offers it. They walk out to the shuttle deck like that, and it takes all of Phil’s resolve not to write up the people who stare as they pass. It’s not a surprise, he’s been there so long and no one’s ever seen him date anyone, so it would be a staring-at worthy thing as it is, but with Clint, an Avenger, who on paper doesn’t make sense for such an old omega, it’s huge news.

 

They take a shuttle, and Clint shifts in his seat when Phil looks at him, looking back with some sort of defiant pride on his face. It’s plastic and forced, as though he’s learned what an alpha’s meant to do from tv and movies and once Phil realises it in Clint, he’s not sure if the way he bends his own head to one side and lets his voice fit into a softer register is genuine or something he’s putting on as well.

 

They land on the top of Stark Tower, defacto landing point for all members (honorary in Phil’s case) Avengers, and he’s thankfully cleared out of the place, leaving them to quietly descend to the lobby and catch a cab to the mystery destination Clint’s kept a secret so far. The cab driver eyes them and Phil can tell he’s tyring to figure out their dynamic exactly, the cab too full of pheremones from previous passengers to get a good bead on their scents. He asks Phil in the rear-view mirror where he’s taking ‘blondie’, and though they both laugh it off it’s embarrassing and weird. Phil doesn’t really care what people make of him, but he feels bad for Clint being mistaken for an omega.

 

The restaurant is a grand, beautiful place, high ceilings and gilt picture frames on the walls framing famous literary couples of the ages. They’re seated under a painting of Romeo and Juliet and Phil realises it actually is from a movie, this place. Where two couples fight over getting to marry there before figuring things out with a rather explicit foursome. 

 

Clint smiles over his menu at Phil, and it seems like it’s finally going to plan, but then the waiter, again thrown off by their low scents from not being in heat and the ambient scents of other couples, addresses Phil instead of Clint as though he’s the alpha again. 

“Excuse me,” Clint says, placing his menu down on his lap and giving his intense glare to the waiter, who realises he’s gotten something wrong but can’t figure out quite what. Phil thinks Clint might make a scene, but he swallows and orders for both of them with deft alpha-esque controlled tones Phil’s very rarely heard out of him. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he says once the waiter’s apologised and left. Phil shakes his head and realises he’s tipping it to one side again in a show of uncharacteristic submission. “It’s fine,” he answers, sitting up straight. Clint sits up even straighter, like he’s trying to outdo Phil, and then winces when he sees what they’re both doing. “This is stupid.”

 

Phil huffs a laugh. “No I get it. I’m sorry. Do you want me to...” he casts around for an idea, some way to show his omega submission to Clint. “Sit on your lap?” he says, wincing at how not-him that is. Thankfully Clint winces and laughs at that idea, shaking his head. “I just feel weird. Everyone assumes I’m a beta usually. And I guess next to you I look positively omega.” 

“No you don’t,” Phil promises, because to him, Clint’s always screamed alpha. It’s only recently that he’s become aware of just how unusual Clint seems to find that. 

 

Clint looks like he’s about to say something in retort but then the waiter’s back with their food, which he pointedly serves Phil first. He pours wine and has Clint taste it. Phil has to stifle a laugh when Clint raises his eyebrows and says, “ok.”

 

He catches Phil’s amusement and pouts. “I don’t know anything about wine,” he confesses. 

 

“You don’t have to do this you know,” Phil says, when he notices how Clint’s fumbling with the lobster he ordered himself. He reaches over and plucks one of the claws from Clint’s grasp, cracking it with the heel of his hand and handing over the flesh from inside it. “You don’t have to act all... stereotypical for me. Just be yourself.” 

“But I’m supposed to be the alpha! I gotta... win the bread and fight the beasts and, you know,” he gestures with a fork and a tiny gob of butter flies off the end of it, landing unnoticed in a woman’s handbag by her feet. They look at each other and spend all of a second trying not to laugh before they do, and Phil feels the tension spilling out of him.

 

“Is everything alright, sirs?” their waiter asks, suddenly hovering there, and Clint’s still giggling to himself so Phil answers that they’re fine, and they’d really like the bill, please?

 

When it comes, Clint pays, and by his face he’s almost daring Phil to protest, but he doesn’t. “You do make more money than me,” Phil remarks when Clint looks his way waiting for some sort of challenge.


	18. Chapter 18

It’s a blessed relief to get out of the restaurant, and they go to a place Phil chooses for dessert. It’s so much better. A little diner that has cute little booths and a list of pies that’s almost an entire side of the laminated menu. Clint feels like he’s relaxing for the first time all evening. Something about the place makes him feel at ease, like he doesn’t have to prove himself or show off or be anything but what comes naturally. Phil smiles at him like he can tell, and Clint’s so pleased to know him, so glad that Phil understands. 

 

“Better?” Phil asks, and Clint grins.

“Much,” he says, and then when the waitress arrives she’s so brilliantly brusque and disinterested in what their ‘deal’ is that Clint almost wants to kiss her. They drink coffee opposite each other and it feels a little like one of the many roadsides they’ve done this before, anonymous diners that they’ve sat in like this. 

 

“Come sit next to me," Clint says quietly. It feels like a bit of a rude request once he’s said it, but Phil pushes his coffee cup over before moving himself, and Clint puts his arm around him. Phil settles there and it’s just right. When the waitress comes back she plonks down their pies with little ceremony, and Phil straightens up to eat. Clint feels his fingers tense at the loss of contact and Phil turns to look at him, sensing how he rather wishes Phil hadn’t moved. 

 

Phil turns back to his pie and Clint starts eating his, but then the handle of a fork is being offered to him and he looks up to see Phil waiting, looking at him. Clint smiles as he takes it, and Phil sweetly opens his mouth and waits for Clint to feed him, smirking as he does it. They both feel silly doing it, but something about it is nice. “Don’t get too used to this,” Phil says, taking his fork back and going back to his pie. “I won’t,” Clint promises, knowing anything his omega lets him do for him will forever be an honour not to be taken lightly. 

 

“So what’s your plan for later?” Phil asks after accepting the last forkful of Clint’s pie. Clint licks the fork clean and puts it down on the empty plate. 

“Well, Tony’s made a room for us at the tower. I mean. Just. To be nice I guess.”

“You sure about that?” Phil says, and Clint nods. “He’s a good guy, Phil. Trust me.” 

“I do trust you,” Phil assures him, and they share a smile as the waitress brings the bill. Phil pulls out his wallet and puts some bills down, and Clint feels a weird kind of buzz of appreciation at just how much Phil doesn’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks; he’s 100% himself. 

“What?” Phil asks as they wait for change. 

“You.”

“What about me?”

“I just think you’re really cool.” 

The smile on Phil’s face has Clint feeling a little buzzy on the inside and he privately congratulates himself on making his mate happy. “I think you’re really cool too,” Phil replies, and then he stands and holds out a hand to help Clint up. Clint takes it and then they stay holding on to each other out in to the street to hail a cab. They keep holding hands all the way up to their room in Stark Tower.


	19. Chapter 19

Clint uses a keycard to get into the room, directed there by Jarvis’ lights on the floor. Something about it feels so illicit. Phil’s not had off-heat sex in years now, and it’s with some trepidation that he follows Clint into the room knowing that they’re going to do just that pretty soon.

 

The room is ridiculous. A great big bed that looks wider than it is long that could easily hold the entire team takes up most of it. The cover on it has the SHIELD logo picked out in purple diamantes which has Phil scoffing as soon as he sees it. Clint laughs too, but he doesn’t let go of Phil’s hand to run over like he does with most glittery purple things - Phil’s joked before how he ought to be called Magpie instead of Hawkeye - but he does bite his lip and grin. “Our union, forever immortalised in blanket form,” he says, and Phil rolls his eyes. There’s a sweet sort of coyness to Clint’s movements, like he’s fighting the urge to jump Phil’s bones, so Phil swallows hard and turns in towards him. 

 

“So. You should know it’s been awhile for me.”

He watches Clint’s throat as he swallows, resists the urge to kiss him there. Maybe later. Maybe soon. Clint runs his hands down Phil’s arms and looks at him hard. “We don’t have to -- do anything if you don’t want to.” 

“No!” Phil replies far too quickly, and they both laugh, a warm honeyed feeling flowing through Phil at the alpha’s smile. His alpha’s smile. His breath hitches and he’s about to say something else, but then Clint’s kissing him and Phil’s hands are on Clint’s waist and he feels like he’s going to melt. 

 

Without the fever of the heat, Phil can take it all in so much more, and he savours the feel and the taste and the smell of Clint, the way his lips are so soft and warm, the way his fingers flex against his biceps, the tiny sound of surprise he makes when Phil cheekily reaches down further to squeeze his ass. He pulls off to look scandalised at Phil, who grins back at him. “That’s how it is, huh?” Clint says, and his voice is already a little husky. “You a tease, Phil?”

Phil sticks his nose in the air like he’s above it all. “Never. I’m far too dignified.”

 

Clint’s laugh is breathless and happy, but then he stops and something like doubt passes over his face. “You _are_ too dignified,” he says, a little rueful smile on his lips. 

“No I’m not,” Phil replies, moving to hold him tight about his waist. “Don’t do that whole thing again. I want you. I _chose_ you. You’re perfect to me.”

Clint actually pouts, so Phil presses close to kiss that pretty lower lip til he smiles it away. “Even without the heat?”

“Of course without the heat, Clint. Always.” 

 

They make out some more til Phil pulls back and coyly says he needs the bathroom, so Clint reluctantly lets him go and then looks in all the drawers and cupboards around ‘their’ room while he waits. Tony’s seen to it that all manner of lube and toys are waiting for them, along with a wardrobe and drawers full of clothes and shoes in his and Phil’s sizes. When Phil comes back, he’s wearing a thin silk robe that’s similar to the bedspread albeit without the rhinestones; grey and purple silk with the SHIELD logo on a breast pocket over ‘Agent’ picked out in purple embroidery. He’s holding his clothes in front of him and when he places them on the dressing table Clint’s quietly pleased with what he sees. “Are you hard?”

Phil laughs. “ _Yes_ , of course I am.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Clint can’t help but march right over and push him to the bed to get a good look.

 

Phil practically squeals when he’s bowled over, letting Clint pin him there and get a good long look before pushing the silk out of the way to see Phil’s perfect omega cock. Clint watches it jump in time with Phil’s heartbeat and sighs with pleasure before rolling on top of Phil and kissing him breathless. He leans up and grins. “Do you wanna fuck me?” 

Phil actually looks shocked, then pleased, then just happy. “No,” he replies in the end, shaking his head. “Maybe another time? Right now I want you inside me.”

 

Clint growls and kisses him again, moving down enough that he can kiss Phil’s neck and make him squirm. He sucks in deep red marks that he expects Phil to stop him from leaving, but he makes little moans of appreciation instead so Clint leaves a good half-dozen. Marked up, he kisses each little bite tenderly before moving down further, sliding hands over warm silk til he can kiss down to Phil’s cock. 

 

Even though Phil’s heat is far off, he smells heady and delicious, and Clint savours Phil’s scent with his eyes flickering shut. Phil shifts and spreads his legs: an invitation if Clint ever saw one, and he kisses the junction of his thigh before sliding his hands around to feel him.

 

“You’re wet,” Clint gasps when his fingers slide through slick he didn’t expect. Not from a mature omega. Perhaps if Phil was teenager and in the first flushes of hormonal adolescence, his body trying valiantly to figure out when to be wet and when not to be. Phil squirms and when Clint looks up Phil’s chest is flushed pink.

“I said it’d been a while,” he replies, like he’s apologising. “Do you mind?”

 

All Clint can do is growl and push Phil onto his belly, whimpering a little when he pries Phil’s cheeks apart and finds him as wet as a kid in pre-heat. As he watches, Phil’s body shivers a little, making that slight hole tense closed before opening up again. He slides a finger over it and dips in easily. “Holy shit, Phil,” Clint murmurs, pressing his fingers into Phil’s opening and savouring the slick and open heat of it whilst squeezing his own cock with his other hand. 

 


	20. Chapter 20

  
Phil’s embarrassed at how wantonly his body is behaving, fully aware of how stupidly turned on he is. He feels like a teenager again, straining against the urge to present himself. It’s nice too, though, because he’s not in heat so the ramping pain and desperate need isn’t there, it’s just a pleasant sensation of want that’s neatly mirrored by the knowledge that he’ll get it. 

 

Clint sighs happily as he toys with Phil’s ass, commenting on how good Phil is, to be so ready and open for his alpha. They ought to be awkward words but they don’t sound crass coming from Clint, they sound just right. Because Phil  _is_  ready and open for him, keening for more when Clint takes his fingers away. 

 

“Thought you said it’d been a while,” Clint laughs behind him, and Phil leans up on one elbow to look at him. “It has, I just...” he laughs at how hard it is to explain. “I feel so good, right now, Clint. It’s like I’m in heat but I can enjoy it. Even if you just kept doing that I’d be happy. Not that I don’t want you to mount me, I do. I want everything.”

  
Clint moves up the bed so he can kiss Phil, rolling them both so Phil’s on top of him and he can reach his hands back to where they were. He slides in fingers from each hand so he can open Phil up and hear him growl, and then Phil shifts to latch onto his neck for a minute to leave his own marks on Clint’s skin.

 

“I bet I could knot,” he says to the air above where Phil’s teeth and tongue are sucking red into his skin, “you smell so good.”

He won’t, Phil knows, since the pheromones he’s giving off aren’t quite the same as heat-scent. This is the promise of heat, the sweet smell of a willing omega urging his alpha home. But it’s hot nonetheless, and when Clint runs his hands down Phil’s back and prompts him with, “Did you like that? Taking my knot?” he plays along, licking his way up Clint’s neck to ghost his lips over his ear.

“Love being your knot-slut. Loved having you tie me. Taking me.”

Clint shivers beneath him and Phil grinds a little against his cock where it’s pressed between them. Clint’s still in his clothes which certainly won’t do, so Phil sits back to carefully pull him free.


	21. Chapter 21

Clint can barely take it - Phil just looking at his cock like he wants to eat it, his skin smooth and warm under his hands still wet with Phil’s slickness. He doesn’t think he’s ever had it so good, nothing like this, certainly. It’s too soon to tell, really, but the scent Phil’s giving off makes him think of bonding, like Phil’s subconsciously willing it, and that's crazy, really it is, because it’s Phil, Phil Coulson, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over him wanting him at all, let alone something so permanent as an old fashioned bond. 

 

Clint watches Phil while he looks at Clint like he’s the best prize at the sideshow and basks in it. He feels Phil’s eyes on him like his gaze is physically touching him and laughs at how good it is. It’s all wonderful, every moment more perfect than the last, and it’s crazy because Phil’s just sitting astride his legs and neither of them are really touching the other. They’re just looking their fill like that’s all they need.

 

“Can I ride you?” Phil asks softly, still transfixed by Clint’s dick. “Y’of course,” he replies, “yes. Uh huh yes please yes.”

 

It’s tighter than in heat, but less than Clint had expected, the way eased by how Phil’s body’s giving him what he wants as though in recompense for the heats it drags him through. He can’t quite settle it in his head that Phil’s that turned on by him that he’s as wet as he is, as ready, but he tries to believe it as Phil sinks down and gasps his name.

 

They stay like that for a long, solid moment, just looking at one another and feeling each other where they’re so intimately connected. There’s no clawing need to claim that Clint feels when he’s with someone who’s in heat, and he’s so unused to it that it almost takes him by surprise that he’s happy for Phil to lift himself up and then sink back down, slowly at first but soon building up a rhythm all his own. 


	22. Chapter 22

 

It’s not the same as heat sex, not anything like the same, really. If heat sex is the scratching of an itch, off-heat sex is a massage. Phil keeps closing his eyes to savour the sensation of his alpha inside him, just for _him_ , not some biological demand, but then snapping them open so he can see just how beautiful he is. Such a majestic creature, spread out beneath him letting him stake his own claim. 

 

Phil realises he’s muttering things to Clint about how beautiful and gorgeous and sweet he is, like Clint’s his omega instead of the other way round, but Clint nods and tells him yes, that he likes it, loves it, needs it all. 

 

Phil savours the feel of Clint’s cock inside him, riding and grinding himself on it til Clint pulls him down into a hug before flipping them over and holding him there. “C’mon,” Phil tells him when he doesn’t move, “you got a job to do.”

 

It’s a joke, and Phil grins with it, a lazy smile that speaks of his satisfaction, but Clint shakes his head and glares at him, growling a little and moving slowly. He wraps a hand around Phil’s cock and squeezes gently, looking at it like Phil had looked at Clint’s. Without the heat, Clint’s movements are more precise, his hand moving at the same pace as his cock into and out of Phil, speeding up gradually til he’s hitting home hard and fast and perfect.

 

There’s no heat to be exhausted and it’s been as long as it has, so Phil’s orgasm hits him unexpectedly, crying out with his back arched against the sheets as Clint fucks him through it. He follows not far behind, pressing in hard and coming inside Phil as he shakes and whimpers.

 

There’s no swelling of knot or desperate need to be held tight and safe, but there’s a sense of loss Phil can’t escape when Clint slides free. “There are some knotting dildos in the -” Clint starts to say, but Phil cuts him off, reaching for him instead. “Just stay, let me kiss you,” he pleads, and Clint lays down beside him so Phil can do just that.

 

“That was good,” Clint says, and they both laugh at the understatement. 

“It was,” Phil agrees. “Not sure I can go again for a few minutes, though.”

Clint laughs and looks a little scandalised. “You _are_ a teenager!”

“What?”

“You think you could go again tonight?”

Phil shrugs, because sure he could, but Clint shakes his head in disbelief. “Well, I can help you out with all these toys but I don’t think Little Clint is gonna want to play again til tomorrow.”

Oh. Phil ducks his head in embarrassment. “Wow. Yeah. Sorry.”

“Are you kidding me?! You’re like every alpha’s dream.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with Mpreg!

They’ve moved in to the apartment in Stark Tower properly by the time Phil’s next heat arrives, and it’s more perfect than Phil had ever let himself dream a heat could be. Clint spends a week preparing for it, piling endless blankets on the bed, stocking their little kitchenette full of heat ration packs and Phil’s favourite foods. It feels so good to have it all planned out and ready, and so perfectly sweet that Clint’s done it all off of his own back, too.

 

Clint senses that Phil’s heat has arrived even before Phil does, so keyed up and ready for it that he’s stripped them both and is inside Phil before even the first pang of need makes itself known. And then everything melts away save for the safe embrace of his mate, filling him up and rocking into him, covering him with kisses and wordless promises pressed against Phil’s skin. 

 

It’s during that heat, in the mindless, blissful headspace Phil finds himself floating in, that it must slip out - some plea that makes Clint stutter and pause. “We’ll talk about this later,” he says, and Phil readily agrees, though he has no idea what Clint means til it’s over. 

 

-

 

Phil lounges around on his nest of blankets and pillows, limbs spread and eyes half-closed. His heat is over, leaving both of them fucked out and exhausted in the best way. Clint’s pottering about in the kitchen, coming back with a pair of underpants messily pulled up over his butt and a plate of bitesized bits of food in hand. “Ran out of the fancy hors d’ouvre things,” he says as he climbs onto the bed, shoving one of Phil’s legs out of the way to make space for himself. Phil doesn’t mind - he’s pretty sure he’s never gonna move again. Good job Clint’s here to feed him.

 

“How’s your head?” Clint asks, leaning down to kiss Phil before pressing a cool grape against his lips. 

Phil hums as he takes it and chews. “Fine. Perfect.” 

 

Clint keeps feeding him, taking his own bits of cheese and ham and bread every so often. “Well,” he says eventually. “You said something. Before.”

Phil doesn’t panic, but his hand does find Clint’s and threads his fingers into Clint’s. “What did I say?” He can’t imagine it was anything too bad - he loves Clint and Clint loves him. 

“Nothing bad!” Clint squeezes Phil’s hand. “You said, ah… you said something about babies.” 

 

“Oh.” Phil sits up, though it takes a fair amount of effort, and Clint has to help him. His head swims a little at suddenly being upright after a good few days of mostly lying down. Again, he sends up a silent prayer of thanks for bringing Clint into his life. 

 

“I guess we should talk about that, huh?” Phil says. Clint squishes a piece of cheese between his finger and thumb, evidently not wanting to say anything til he knows Phil’s stance on the issue. 

“For what it’s worth, I never really thought about it, but I never really thought I’d have this at all.” Phil gestures around himself, around the both of them. Clint nods. The squished piece of cheese is now a little ball between his fingers. 

“But,” Phil waits til Clint’s looking at him properly before continuing. “If you wanted to… I mean I’m hardly in my prime but we could… talk about it, at least? If you want to.” 

 

There’s a brief flicker of hope in Clint’s eyes that makes Phil smile. 

 

They talk about it some more, though it’s light and noncommittal on both sides. It’s not til Phil has Clint tell him exactly what he said that he realises something he knew all along. He really wants to have a baby.


	24. Chapter 24

 

 

The first time Phil said it, his face was mashed into a pillow, and Clint thought his mind was just putting his own thoughts into the muffled words he could barely hear. ‘Breed me’ was hardly a cast iron declaration of anything, but Phil kept saying it, lost in his heat haze and grasping at Clint. ‘Breed me, breed me, breed me,’ he’d said, and Clint could do nothing but agree, promise Phil whatever he needed, whatever he could give. 

 

Phil’s eyes kind of glazed over a little when Clint knotted him, when they were locked together and tangled in each others arms. You can’t completely trust someone when they’re in heat - not over important things, so Clint decided to put it out of his mind, but then Phil squeezed around Clint’s knot and pleaded, ‘put a baby in me,’ and Clint felt his cock spurt a little more as if on command.

 

‘Please,’ Phil had said, and Clint wordlessly agreed, because for one thing it made no difference right then - they were both on their own kinds of birth control and for another: Clint finds himself agreeing to anything Phil asks of him when he’s like that.

 

So Clint had said yes, and then, once heat-frazzled Phil’s wandering consciousness had determined to latch onto the subject, said yes again, over and over agreeing to put babies inside of Phil, to take care of him when he was full and round with their litter, to keep him safe and warm and cared for. 

 

He silently freaked out a little after the first intense baby talk rut, inhaling half a box of crackers in the kitchen. Clint hadn’t ever thought about babies before, not properly. Sure, the thought of having the white picket fence idyl was an image he had in his mind but it wasn’t something he thought of as an achievable reality. But suddenly, right there in their ridiculous Stark-excess apartment, it all seemed possible - the kids, the dog, the ‘honey, I’m home!’...

 

It’s not something Clint’s ever let himself consider before. 

 

He wanted to talk to Phil about it then, but, well, heat-Phil isn’t so good at conversation.

 

So. Now that Phil’s able to see straight again, Clint brings it up. “Is it crazy if I want that? With our jobs and everything…” 

Phil shrugs, which is almost unnerving. Phil Coulson isn’t a shrugger. “I don’t even know if I’m fertile. But if I am, I probably won’t be for long. I’m kinda old.” 

“No,” Clint says, stroking a hand down Phil’s cheek. “Not old. Perfect.” 

Phil rests his hand over Clint’s. “If you say so.” 


	25. Chapter 25

 

 

It’s easy in the end, to get pregnant. Phil comes off his fertility suppressants, has a heat, and then, bam, two pink lines instead of one. They haven’t told anyone about their plan, such as it is a plan - more like a vague direction they’ve decided to wander in, but everyone’s pleased for them. There’s a few slightly ageist comments from Tony, but they’re not so bad, and everyone grumbles in his direction for them anyway. Phil just rubs his nonexistent belly and smiles. He’s been doing a lot of smiling. He finds it hard to stop.

 

Back at work, things are mostly the same, though Phil’s more aware of his body than he thinks he’s ever been. Clint becomes a bit of a terror around base, more often than not prowling (actually prowling!) outside Phil’s office and glaring at anyone that dares disturb him. People like Director Fury, who comes in and glowers at Phil. “Do something about that,” he orders, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door. Phil thinks he hears Clint growl. 

 

Phil schedules Clint to spend time teaching the kids at the on-site creche some very basic self defence moves, and the contact with actual fragile people seems to mellow him out a little. He’s still on edge, though, and Phil feels sorry for having had some part in making him feel like this. As much as he promises Clint he’ll be ok and that he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself and their babies, Clint’s only truly happy when they’re both at home and he has a hand on Phil - usually his belly. 

 

It’s still a little claustrophobic, even with Clint out of Phil’s hair every couple of days. He’s glad of the attention and likes the primal sense of being taken such good care of, but Phil misses some of the solitude that used to be a constant companion. They argue about it a little, with Clint misconstruing Phil’s suggestions of individual activities as punishment for doing something wrong and trying to atone for it. At one point he very nearly starts a fight with Steve when he dares to give Phil a book.

 

Phil’s never been pregnant before, so he doesn’t know if he’s experiencing some kind of hormonal imbalance that’s making him feel like tearing out what’s left of his hair, or Clint really is being the worst. 

 

It’s Natasha who steps in to knock some sense into Clint, challenging him to spar and forcing him out of the tower at least once every day. She makes sure Phil has the space to breathe and speak to other people a little bit, and it feels like sweet rain on parched soil. 

 

The brief moments of solitude give Phil the opportunity to gain perspective on the situation again, on Clint and their babies and the future that they’re definitely going to be sharing from now on. It gives him the opportunity to _miss_ Clint, and soon enough a new rhythm establishes itself, where Phil is actually pleased to see Clint every day, and the hand on his belly feels safe and precious rather than heavy and oppressive. 


	26. Chapter 26

 

Clint doesn’t understand it for a long time, the whole ‘leave me alone’ vibe Phil gives him a few weeks into the pregnancy. He just wants to make sure the baby is ok, that Phil is ok. The primal sense of urgency Clint feels around Phil comes on so strong after Phil announces he’s pregnant that it fills him with panic, and the only thing that will quell the panic is being next to Phil, touching skin to skin if possible. He feels like he’s just being a responsible Alpha is all.

 

It takes almost getting into a fist fight with Captain America for Clint to realise perhaps he’s being a little bit irrational. Phil had been talking about how he wanted to go out (Clint didn’t like that idea), for walks (Clint didn’t see why he needed to walk around - he might fall and hurt the babies or himself), on his _own_ (yeah right), and Steve had piped up about how he’d been doing some walks himself. Clint had not so subtly positioned himself between them and Steve had backed off, only to come back later on with a book. 

 

It wasn’t supposed to be a move on Phil - Alphas don’t really do that in civilised society anymore, but Clint had seen it for what it objectively was: another Alpha bringing his Omega a gift - an offering. An invitation. 

 

Clint barely even registered what he was doing as he slapped the book out of Steve’s hand and then surged towards him, primed for a fight. Steve had, humiliatingly, just stepped back and then held Clint in place at arms length. The worst part of all of it was: Phil looked terrified. 

 

Yeah, Clint needed to chill the fuck out. 

 

The first time Clint ‘let’  Phil go out on his own (his own!) he spent the entire time just pacing around the tower until Natasha had tugged him down to the tower’s gym. He kept his phone in view the entire time and kept checking in with JARVIS, but for the most part, Natasha refused to let him do anything but defend himself from flying kicks and the dirty sort of fighting she unleashed on him. Phil came home a few hours later, looking freshfaced and happy. Clint, having planned on pouting a little, forgot all about how grumpy he’d been at being shunned and rushed to pull Phil into his arms. 

 

It was hard, but it got easier, and the sensation of his Omega being home and safe made the worry that seemed determined not to go away during the time they were apart that much easier to bear. 

 

Soon enough, the panic dissipated, til it was just a faint noise in the background, a hum that turns into a happy sigh when they are reunited once more. 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided it's the norm to have loads of babies at once in this verse. Shh just go with it.

 

 

 

They have a scan after a few months, and just as Phil had suspected, what with his age and gender (male omegas tend to have smaller litters) their brood is just two. He holds on to Clint’s hand as they watch black and white blobs sitting there looking vaguely like babies, and feels like he’s failed Clint - an alpha that surely deserves five or six at least. But when he turns to look at Clint, his face is wet and he’s grinning, transfixed by the sight of the two little lives that they’ve made together.

 

It spurs Clint on to start nesting in earnest, and if Phil thought Clint’s heat preparations were extreme, they have nothing on this. Tony has assigned the new family an entire floor, which is currently in the process of being remodelled. Phil has some input, but it’s Clint that takes the lead on it, putting his nervous energy into creating the perfect home for his new family. Phil’s never seen him so driven before, and it’s beautiful. 

 

Phil grows bigger and bigger, getting stretchmarks over his belly which Clint, rather than finding distasteful or strange, finds fascinating and beautiful. In fact, the more Phil feels like his body is becoming less and less attractive, the more Clint seems to lavish praise and attention on it. He gets an earful of old wives tales from somewhere, which spurs him on to rubbing all manner of things into Phil’s belly and the soles of his feet, cooking up things which don’t sound right on paper but then taste like manna from heaven when Phil reluctantly tries them. 

 

Clint sings songs to Phil too, when Phil can’t sleep and his back is aching, and Phil decides his sweet voice settles the babies. 


	28. Chapter 28

 

 

Clint thinks he ought to feel a little ashamed at how much he enjoys Phil round and slow with his belly so full, having to rely on him more than he normally might. The fact that Phil actually can’t put his own socks on without Clint helping him thrills him in some deep, primal way that seems so backwards and neolithic he’s afraid to examine it too closely for fear he’ll discover he really is a cave man after all. 

 

Although he thinks Phil privately enjoys it too - the luxury of having someone at his beck and call, for whom no request is too great. For such a fiercely competent man, Phil’s internal conflict is obvious, so Clint tries his best not to say anything. At night, though, Phil on his side with Clint tucked up behind him, they whisper to one another in the dark about how much they enjoy their current predicament. The words are tempered by the darkness, quiet confessions that they can pretend mean nothing once morning comes. 

 

They still have sex - a slow, languid sort of fucking, though at very specific angles the bigger Phil gets. The whole thing turns Clint on so much it’s frightening, fucking into Phil and filling him up, whispers of more babies, of keeping Phil big and ripe with litter after litter, telling him just how much he likes knowing he’s the one who made Phil like this, that Phil’s walking around with a big sign that says ‘property of Clint Barton’.

 

Phil pulls Clint’s hands around him, turned on by the sensation of Clint’s palms over the taut skin of his belly, often coming untouched and gasping in agreement with Clint’s declarations. 

 

They’re salacious fetishes they both avoid dissecting too much in the light of day. Clint’s never thought of pregnancy as sexy before, but perhaps it’s the fact that it’s Phil that does it for him - that his belly is round with _their_ babies. Their love. 

 

When did Clint Barton become such a sap?


	29. Chapter 29

 

Clint takes Phil down to their new floor when he’s gotten so big that all he’s comfortably able to do is wander around the tower and has taken to pleading with Clint for a preview. It’s been under wraps all this time, and Clint only relents once JARVIS has confirmed that there are definitely no paint toxins in the air. 

 

Phil privately enjoys having to lean on Clint, the way Clint rushes to open doors and clear a space and dote so heavily on him. Whereas it was irritating in the early stages, it’s positively wonderful now, and he finds when Clint goes off for his sparring with Natasha, or he’s out buying things for their floor, he pines for him like a lovesick highschooler. 

 

So perhaps he can be forgiven for acting like such a sap when Clint reveals what he’s done with floor 66. 

 

Phil’s not sure what he was expecting - purple mayhem, possibly, or something very modern and sharp-cornered and Stark-like. But it’s perfect. It immediately feels like home, from the warm wooden floors to the inviting couches, soft drapery over the windows that makes it feel enclosed and homely whilst framing the breathtaking views over the city. There’s a kitchen - elaborate and sturdy, with brightly coloured plates and glasses (and tiny, plastic versions of the same for the new residents when they arrive), and various other bright things, the sort of things Phil’s always seen Clint lingering over, even before they got together. It could be garish, so many bright things, but they’re tempered by neutral tones - the couches and the walls are warm and soft-coloured, the shelves and cupboards slightly tinted wood. It’s a perfect mixture. 

 

Clint takes Phil’s silence at the first glimpse of the place as dismay (of course), promising that they can change anything, there’s plenty of time and Clint has all the receipts if Phil wants him to return anything. Phil shakes his head until he can find his words. “I love it. I love it.” 

 

Clint shows him the bedroom, where various muted shades of grey, blue and purple lend the space a calm, relaxing atmosphere. It’s a more simple affair than the rather showy room Tony had originally given them, though for old time’s sake, there are bathrobes with diamante initials on them hanging in the en suite. 

 

The nursery is decorated with a pale rainbow of pastels and pretty lights that lend the simple room interest. It leads on to a playroom full of far too many toys (some of which Phil suspects might have been bought with someone else in mind - babies don’t tend to play with nerf guns as far as Phil knows), and then on to a study - a desk for Phil is the focus of the room, but there are two miniature desks either side of it, replete with crayons and in/out boxes full of craft paper. 

 

It’s perfect. 


	30. Chapter 30

 

Phil goes into labour mid-morning during a briefing of the team. JARVIS informs them and they all move quicker than they do when there’s an actual Avenger emergency. Tony starts boiling water and telling Steve to rip up some towels, whilst Bruce tuts and puts Natasha in charge of wrangling those guys whilst he joins Clint on the way up to their suite. They’ve been holding meetings in the tower over the last few months anyway for just this reason, and Clint’s endlessly grateful that he doesn’t have to fight his way through downtown traffic to get home to his pregnant Omega. 

 

Phil’s breathing heavily when he makes it up to their suite, and he clutches onto Clint when he makes it into the room, apparently not even noticing Bruce til Clint peels himself away for Bruce to have a look. They’ve called the hospital, who are on a rather elaborate Tony Stark expensed retainer, so a team of midwives will be arriving any minute, but Bruce has his soft doctory way about him that soothes Phil enough to get him settled. 

 

Clint does some breathing exercises with him and sings softly til the team from the hospital arrive, and then stands guard at the door of their bedroom whilst they see to Phil. He’s just about chewed his nails down to the quick when they ask him back in, and Phil holds his hand tightly, staring hard at Clint as his body does its thing. Clint wishes he could do something, take some of this burden, but Phil’s stronger than Clint’s ever been. There’s a pang of something very ancient that Clint feels, and he can tell Phil feels it too, that sense of bond that he sometimes feels around Phil, when they’re close together in the dark. He’s not sure they’ve ever been quite this close before, and it’s frightening in its intensity.

 

Phil shivers slightly and then Clint hears it, the first squeal of a newborn baby. He turns to watch the tiny little thing as a nurse checks it over before placing it in Phil’s arms, and barely a moment later, another is handed to Clint. 

 

They say some stuff, the nurses and doctors and midwives, but Clint doesn’t hear any of it. There’s a tiny little person in his hands who’s looking at him like he’s the whole universe, and nothing else seems like it matters. 


End file.
